


Jewels in the Crown!

by Ninja_Librarian



Series: The Many Adventures of Duckburg's Heroes! [3]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Adventure, Family Drama, Louie and Della are having issues, M/M, Mystery, Yes I did name Violet and Lena's dads after Holt and Kevin from Brooklyn Nine-Nine, You're Welcome, drake is a good dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2020-12-27 14:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21120521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninja_Librarian/pseuds/Ninja_Librarian
Summary: When Scrooge McDuck hears through his treasure hunting grapevines that Magica DeSpell is searching for two powerful items to get her magic back, it becomes a race against time for those objects to end up in the right hands.  While Scrooge whisks his family off to Toucanistan to locate the Blood Ruby, he sends Darkwing Duck to St. Canard, where the Tyrant's Lost Crown that the Blood Ruby once resided in has mysteriously and anonymously made an appearance.Joining Darkwing Duck is his ever faithful partner, Launchpad, as well as Gosalyn and Louie--who is in need of some time away from his family. Protecting the Crown should be an easy assignment, but when they arrive in St. Canard, they quickly realize that things aren't as they seem. Something fishy is going on in the St. Canard Museum, and it all centers around the Crown...After all, how did the Crown, lost to time, appear so suddenly in St. Canard of all places? And where is Sam Corgison, the Museum's Curator and Scrooge's friend? And, more importantly, is the Crown even the genuine article?





	1. Chapter 1

It was a beautiful day in Duckburg. The sun was shining, nothing magical or extraterrestrial had attacked in a month, there had only been one explosion, and all was well.

Peaceful, even.

Then Darkwing Duck zoomed through the streets on the motorcycle he affectionately called the Ratcatcher, heading straight for Killmotor Hill and Scrooge McDuck’s mansion on top of it.

This never boded well for the citizens of Duckburg, who were suddenly busy placing bets, calling significant others to see what needed to be restocked in the panic room, boarding up the windows of their homes and businesses, or trying to get ahold of their insurance company to make sure that their plans covered damage caused by supernatural forces.

None of them noticed that Darkwing Duck had a small girl clinging to his back on the bike, as she pointed out loudly and see, they didn’t need the sidecar.

In front of the gate to McDuck Manor, Darkwing hit the brakes, put his foot on the ground to stabilize the bike, then pressed the intercom button

“Yes?” Came the clear, crisp voice of Mrs. Beakley over the loudspeaker.

“Darkwing Duck, reporting for duty!” Darkwing declared.

“And Gosalyn, too!” Gosalyn chimed in from behind.

The gates swung open, and Darkwing put on the gas.

“Why do you think Uncle Scrooge called an emergency meeting?” Gosalyn asked. “Aliens again?”

“I hope not,” Darkwing told her. “Selene said that Lunaris is still stuck in orbit, and she’s supposed to be keeping a better eye on any other potential off-plane visitors.”

Darkwing pulled the Ratcatcher up to the front of the manor, slightly surprised to see a green station wagon parked nearby. He took notice of the Duckburg Middle School honor’s student sticker, and said, “Looks like the Sabrewings are joining us…”

“Keen gear!” Gosalyn exclaimed as she tossed her helmet on the seat of the bike. “Means there’s something magical going on, if Lena and Violet are involved!”

“But also means something dangerous is going on, if Professor and Captain Sabrewing are being brought in.” Darkwing said as they climbed the stairs. He rang the bell and Launchpad opened the door.

“Launchpad!” Gosalyn exclaimed, hugging him tightly.

“Hey, Gos,” Launchpad said, returning the hug. “Come on in, everyone else is already upstairs.”

“Any idea what’s going on?” Darkwing asked, resisting the urge to hug his boyfriend. Even at the manor, where everyone knew Darkwing’s secret identity and they were well protected, Darkwing and Launchpad were careful to keep their distance and their superhero/superhero-partner relationship more professional compared to their civilian romantic relationship.

“Nope,” Launchpad answered as they headed up the stairs. “But Mr. McD’s been grumpy all day. More than usual.”

“That doesn’t bode well,” Darkwing said with a grimace. “Gizmoduck here, too?”

“Yep. Got here just a few minutes before you did,” Launchpad said, pushing open the doors to the study.

Nearly of the manor’s residents were present. Donald and Della were standing together in a corner, while Mrs. Beakley and Duckworth served tea to the other guests. Professor Keven and Captain Raymond Sabrewing were seated on a couch, backs straight but hands clasped together, their eyes predominately on their daughters—Violet and Lena—who were sitting on the floor with Webby, Huey, Dewey and Louie. Gosalyn ran to join the group of kids, who made room for her to join in their small circle.

On the other couch, Gizmoduck was desperately trying to separate the bickering Officer Cabrera and Dr. Gyro Gearloose, the suit-wearing superhero stuck between them. Or, perhaps, positioned perfectly to prevent Officer Cabrera from murdering the scientist. Darkwing was in no rush to find out.

But there was no sign of the man of the hour: Scrooge McDuck.

Darkwing approached the Duck twins first, hoping that his boss’s niece and nephew would be able to clue him in on what was happening.

“Hey Darkwing,” Della greeted, not looking at him. Instead, her gaze was focused on her boys across the room.

“Any idea where your uncle is?” Darkwing asked.

Before either twin could answer, the door to the study was thrown open. All eyes turned to Scrooge McDuck, who strode in and sat down at his desk without a word. He threaded his fingers together, his elbows on the desktop, and he leaned forward, his eyes hard.

“I have gathered you all here in hopes to avoid catastrophe of epic proportions,” He declared, his Scottish brogue thick. “We have one goal: stop Magica DeSpell from getting her hands on magic again.”

Everyone stared at him, frozen in shock. Even if they hadn’t personally lived through the Shadow War that had been caused by Magica DeSpell’s brief reign of terror, they all understood the urgency of the situation and did not wish to imagine what could happen if Magica DeSpell returned to Duckburg with powers.

In an instant, Raymond Sabrewing crossed the room, kneeling down behind Lena, putting his hands on her shoulders protectively. Lena, the girl made of Magica DeSpell’s shadow, was usually unflappable but her eyes filmed over with tears and she looked terrified.

“I thought DeSpell was gone, her powers unable to return,” Kevin said stiffly as he came to stand at his husband’s side.

“Her own powers, no,” Scrooge confirmed. “Lena is the sole holder of Magica DeSpell’s original, innate magic. Lena alone controls those powers, and Magica cannot force her to relent those powers. No, Magica knows that if she wants magic, she has to find other means. Particularly by using magical artifacts.”

“There is a magical artifact that Magica has targeted,” Mrs. Beakley said, more of a statement than a question.

“Like… a magic wand or something?” Gizmoduck asked.

Gyro Gearloose huffed and rolled his eyes. “Magic wand. Please. This isn’t a _Harry Otter_ novel…”

Scrooge stood up and pulled a book out of a drawer, flipping open to a marked page that showed a large red gemstone, showing it to the room’s occupants.

“This is the Blood Ruby of Toucanistan,” He explained, scowling down at the picture. “I’ve been hearing rumors in my treasure-hunting grapevines that someone matching Magica’s description has been asking about the Blood Ruby.”

“What’s so special about this Blood Ruby?” Dewey asked, raising his hand.

“Long ago, the Blood Ruby was the crown jewel of the crown of the most powerful, most hated, most despicable emperor of the region now known as Toucanistan,” Scrooge said. “He was a tyrant of epic proportions. It gave the emperor great but terrible powers, and he used those powers to force his subjects to submit to him as well as to decimate surrounding kingdoms to expand the territory of his empire. In addition to the riches he gained, he continued to gain power in the Blood Ruby itself.”

“What do you mean by that?” Darkwing asked.

“The Blood Ruby is aptly named, not for the color, but for the blood sacrifices used to power it,” Scrooge said. “It is said that none were spared in his quest for glory and power. Blood of his enemies, blood of his countrymen, blood of his own nobles and family and servants and subjects was spilled to give more magic to the Blood Ruby. All feared the emperor, even his own heir. When the tyrant finally died, the first thing his heir did was separate the Blood Ruby from the crown. After some failed attempts to destroy both objects, the new emperor had the Blood Ruby and the crown hidden away, never to see the light of day and never to be reunited.”

“Can the Ruby work without the crown?” Violet asked.

“Yes, but the gold in the crown amplifies the Blood Ruby’s power and gave the emperor the ability to wield the magic with his mind,” Scrooge answered. “And some other recent news has led me to believe that the Blood Ruby is in danger of falling into Magica’s hands.”

With that, he pulled out a newspaper and placed it in Huey’s outstretched hands. His eyes skimmed the headline and then widened. “Whoa! ‘Anonymous donor gifts the Tyrant’s Lost Crown to the St. Canard Museum’! It’s dated from two days ago!”

“If Magica got her hands on the Blood Ruby and the Crown, she would be unstoppable,” Scrooge said.

“So what’s the plan, McDuck?” Officer Cabrera asked.

“To begin with, Donald, Della and I will take the kids to find the Blood Ruby,” Scrooge said. “Though I highly recommend that Lena remains here in Duckburg.”

“No problem there,” Lena mumbled, leaning into Raymond, who wrapped an arm around her.

Violet took her sister’s hand and added, “I will stay, too.”

Scrooge nodded. “Gizmoduck, Beakley, Gyro, and Officer Cabrera, I want you four in charge of protecting Duckburg and the Sabrewings, with Duckworth protecting the Other Bin.”

The five gave nods, accepting their marching orders.

Scrooge turned to Darkwing. “Darkwing, I want you and Launchpad to go to St. Canard and protect the Tyrant’s Crown.”

Darkwing grimaced and said, “With all due respect, Mr. McDuck, I think it would be better for Gizmoduck to go to St. Canard and for Launchpad and I to stay here in Duckburg.”

Scrooge met his gaze, and Darkwing saw understanding in his eyes, but nevertheless Scrooge said, “I know your history with St. Canard, but you are the most familiar with the area, especially having made frequent visits there a few months ago. I think that Gizmoduck’s presence would be too noticeable. The terror that flaps in the night is much more subtle. Er, minus the smoke bombs, that is.”

Darkwing folded his arms over his chest, irritable. He huffed but nodded.

Great, he was being sent back to the hometown he had been so desperate to leave, the hometown he only recently returned to while in the process of adopting Gosalyn, and all because his presence as a superhero wouldn’t be ‘too noticeable’.

Scrooge McDuck’s words were meant to butter him up, but Darkwing knew what that translated to: he was still a nobody superhero whom no one would notice and no one would care about.

Well. At least with it just being him and Launchpad going, they’d get some much needed alone time. And if he swung it right so that McDuck footed the hotel bill, he had always wanted to try room service…

Scrooge dismissed the crowd. Gizmoduck started conferring with Kevin and Raymond, promising that he would fly behind their car as they drove home. Duckworth disappeared through the floor, which Beakley huffed at as she started gathering tea things. Officer Cabrera followed her out of the room, talking strategy. Meanwhile, Gyro got on the phone with Manny, barking orders as he also left.

Della’s eyes sparkled as she clapped her hands together. “This’ll be great! First family treasure hunting adventure! I’ll go start the Cloudslayer’s pre-checks. Huey, go check the supplies. Webby, weapons. Dewey, epic road trip playlist. Put Powerline’s ‘Stand Out’ on there at least a dozen times. Louie—”

“I’m not going,” The duckling said, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, staring at Scrooge’s map with his beak pressed into a thin line.

Della’s face fell. “But… But…” Della closed and opened her mouth a few times before saying, “But it’s a Duck family treasure hunt! How can you not want to go?”

“Easily,” Louie snapped irritably. “I just don’t want to go. I hate treasure hunting. I’ll hang out with Violet and Lena or something. Maybe chill out with Duckworth. I don’t know.”

“But—” Della started again.

“I’m not good at treasure hunting, and I don’t enjoy it.”

“That’s not—”

“I’m not Huey or Dewey, and I’m not the great Della Duck,” Louie snapped sharply, still not looking at his mother. “And I’ll never be.”

Darkwing watched Della completely deflate, her expression heartbroken. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scrooge and Donald exchange a sad but meaningful look.

Scrooge came over and clapped a hand on his great-nephew’s shoulder. “Lad, how about instead you go to St. Canard with Darkwing and Launchpad?”

“What?” Louie and Darkwing said at the same time, Louie confused and Darkwing horrified.

No, no, no, no, no, no… He was not losing his private time with his boyfriend in a… well, if Scrooge McDuck was footing the bill it probably wasn’t going to be a fancy hotel, but a hotel nonetheless!

“Louie, you know treasure, know how to look for all the angles of a situation, and can hold your own,” Scrooge said. “You’d be valuable for that mission and protecting the Crown.”

“I don’t know…” Louie said, glancing over briefly at Della.

“We’d love for you to join us, L-Man!” Launchpad added, even though Darkwing’s reaction was to let out a small squawk.

“If Louie goes, can I go, too?” Gosalyn asked. “Treasure hunting is cool and all, but a Darkwing Duck assignment is even cooler!”

“Sure!” Launchpad answered jovially as Darkwing died inside.

“Keen gear!” Gosalyn exclaimed, punching the air.

“Well… okay, then,” Louie conceded. “I’ll go to St. Canard.”

There it was. The final nail in the coffin for any Drakepad (official ship-name and registered trademark, Gosalyn Mallard) alone time. At this point, he was doubting they’d even share a room, let alone a bed.

“It’s settled then,” Scrooge said with a nod. “I’ll book you a room, and call the St. Canard Museum’s curator and let them know you’re coming. They owe me a favor, and now we have a perfect cover story: two young school newspaper reporters wanting an inside scoop on the Museum’s latest acquisition…”

“Keen gear!” Gosalyn said, grinning. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as your bags are packed,” Scrooge told her. To the others, he said, “That goes for us, too. Huey, Dewey, Webby, Della gave you your marching orders.”

Huey and Dewey exchanged a glance, then approached their triplet.

“You sure you don’t want to come?” Huey asked. “I just downloaded an entire season of _Ottoman Empire_ on my tablet to watch on the plane ride.”

“I’m sure,” Louie said tersely.

“Come on, it’ll be weird if you don’t come,” Dewey pressed.

“Yeah, well, it’d be weird if I did go,” Louie argued, walking away from his brothers.

Della went after him. “Louie—”

“I’ve got a bag to pack,” Louie interrupted. “Don’t you have the Sunchaser to prep?”

Della deflated again and let her youngest son wander away before sighing and heading in the opposite direction.

“Gos, why don’t you go help Webby with the weapons?” Launchpad suggested.

“Sure,” Gos said, and she and Webby left to go to the armory. Huey and Dewey exchanged another glance, then sighed, and left the room as well.

“So…” Drake said slowly, taking off his hat and mask, sensing that the mood called for Drake Mallard, not Darkwing Duck. “What was _that_ about?”

Donald sighed and slumped into a chair, dragging his hand down his face. “Louie moved in with me on the houseboat earlier this week,” He explained.

“Okay?” Drake said, confused. “How is that a problem?”

“The problem is that it was result of many long months of an unsteady relationship between Della and Louie,” Scrooge answered, standing at the window with his arms behind his back. “It had been since Della returned, and got worse a few months ago when Della grounded him over a failed-scheme—a bit too harshly, I might add. They were on better terms after the Moonvasion, but these last few weeks… Well. Things got worse.”

“Della off-hand mentioned that she remembered some things about Huey and Dewey. Favorite foods and hobbies and interests,” Donald continued. “Louie challenged her, asking if she knew any of his favorites and interests.”

“And she… didn’t know the answers?” Drake asked.

“She failed horribly,” Scrooge said, turning around with a sigh. “She tried to defend herself, saying she was still learning about the lads. Louie pointed out that—in the six months she’s been back on earth—she knew all these things about his brothers, but not him. Della couldn’t deny that.”

“Ouch,” Launchpad said, cringing.

“Louie moved back into the houseboat the next day,” Donald said. “Said he wanted his space. Della realizes she’s messed up, and she’s been trying to talk to him since, but he refuses.”

“He also stated—not implied, stated, and quite loudly at that—that you were the only one who truly cared about him, Donald,” Scrooge reminded his nephew.

“Which isn’t true,” Donald snapped. “I mean, I care about him. A lot. But so do you, and Della, and his brothers…” Donald sighed and rubbed his face again. “He’s hurting, and struggling. Louie’s never adapted to change well, and he feels left out.” Donald looked up at Drake. “Please take care of him. I think this trip will be good for him. And maybe when he comes home, he’ll be ready to talk with Della and get this all sorted out.”

“Of course we’ll look after him,” Drake told Donald. “Don’t worry, Louie will be fine. We’ll just be guarding the Crown, right? Magica knows she needs the Blood Ruby first, and if she doesn’t get it, then getting the Crown is a moot point. So it’ll probably just be a lot of boring nothingness. He’ll be fine, I promise.”

Donald’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled. “Thank you.” He got out of his chair and glanced towards the door. “I’m going to go check on Louie’s packing progress.”

“And I should get started on my own packing,” Launchpad said.

“I’ll come with you,” Drake said quickly.

Because by golly, he was going to get at least one minute of alone time with his boyfriend. Even if it had to be done while stuffing socks and underwear into an overnight bag.


	2. Chapter 2

The drive to St. Canard was fortunately uneventful and quiet, with both kids sitting in the backseat with their respective devices, leaving Drake enough time to do some research on the museum. He had been there plenty of times as a kid, but knew that there had been some renovation work over the last ten years. He also read up some more information about the staff members they were likely to encounter, namely the curator and lead conservationist, Sam Corgison and Charlotte Pekin respectively.

Scrooge had called when they were about halfway there, saying that he had been unable to get ahold of Mx. Corgison. However, he was certain that mentioning his name would get them through.

They stopped and checked into their hotel first before heading over to the museum to dump their bags and stretch their legs.

Gosalyn and Louie decided to do this in the only way two eleven year olds in a semi-fancy hotel suite could: by each climbing onto one of the queen-size beds and jumping on it, laughing the entire time and throwing pillows at each other.

Drake decided to let them have their fun and not tell them to cut it out, instead focusing on double-checking that his go-bag was prepared. Costume. Spare costume. Gas gun. Gas canisters. Handcuffs. First aid kit. Spare cellphone charging cord. The works.

“Got everything?” Launchpad asked from where he sat on the couch beside Drake, his feet propped up on the coffee table, flipping through the hotel’s TV channels.

“Yeah,” Drake said, closing the bag and leaning back on the couch. He was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he said, “I’ve got nothing that will help if Magica shows up.”

“Would it help if I said that I don’t think Gizmoduck does either?”

“No, that’s actually worse,” Drake said. “Because I don’t think she’d go after this crown.”

Launchpad nodded grimly. “You think she’d go after Lena first.”

“Yeah. Crown last. We’d be the last line of defense, and not where it really matters.”

Launchpad turned off the television and turned to Drake. “I’m sure Mr. McD and the others will get the Blood Ruby first. Nothing will happen to Lena. She’ll be safe.”

Drake nodded and stood up, stretching and wincing slightly as he felt his joints pop. “Let’s stop at the Starducks in the lobby on our way out the door. I don’t know about you, but after that car ride I need some coffee.”

“Starducks!” Gosalyn exclaimed, rushing into the living room area. “We’re going to Starducks? I want a unicorn frappe!”

“Absolutely not,” Drake said flatly. “Do you know how much sugar and chemicals are in that thing?”

“Yeah, that’s the whole point, Dad!” Gosalyn said, waving her arms about dramatically.

“Well, as a former Starducks employee, let me tell you that no self-respecting daughter of mine is getting a unicorn frappe.” Drake said, ruffling Gosalyn’s hair. “You can have a smoothie so that I can pretend you’re actually getting a daily serving of fruit.”

“Aw, Dad! Come on!” Gosalyn groaned.

Launchpad looked over and saw Louie standing in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning on the doorframe with his hands tucked inside his hoodie and looking pensive. But also a bit sad and wistful. That was… weird.

“What do you think you’ll get, Louie?” Launchpad asked, trying to distract Louie from whatever was going on in his head. “Hot chocolate or smoothie?”

“Smoothie, definitely, it’s too hot outside for hot chocolate,” Louie said, pushing himself off the doorframe with his shoulder.

“What? No. Never too hot for hot chocolate,” Launchpad argued.

“Is this one of those weird grown-up things? Drinking hot drinks when it’s already way too hot outside? And enjoying it?” Louie asked.

“Nope, that’s a Launchpad thing,” Drake said, grabbing his go-bag. “Everyone ready to roll?”

*****

Four drinks and two blocks down the street later, they had arrived at the St. Canard Museum and approached the reception desk.

“Hello,” The clerk behind the counter greeted brightly. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, I was hoping I could speak to Mx. Corgison,” Drake explained.

The clerk’s face fell slightly as she tried to keep a smile on her face. “Oh, uh… Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but I’m here on behalf of my boss,” Drake told her. “Scrooge McDuck? I have his card if you need validation.”

The clerk glanced around then leaned forward over her desk. “Listen… Uh, Mx. Corgison is actually on an indefinite leave of absence. They probably didn’t tell Mr. McDuck that. It was… sudden. We didn’t even know until the board’s temporary replacement arrived.”

“That’s fine,” Drake assured her. “We can talk to the interim curator.”

The clerk shook her head, looking a bit shaken. “I wouldn’t. He… He’s not the nicest person. And you seem like a nice person, you and your family. Look, we have a brand new exhibit on caveducks, how about I get you all tickets to go see it. It’s fascinating. So that’ll be two adults and two children…”

“No, I’m sorry, we’re here on urgent business,” Drake said, suddenly regretting that he didn’t wear his costume in. Curse this plan to come incognito and use Scrooge’s name… Time to forget that plan and get straight to the point. The longer they delayed, the more risk the crown was in. “You see, it’s about the museum’s latest acquisition.”

“Another plebian who wishes for a sneak peek?”

Drake looked over to where the harsh voice had come from. A tall swan stood there, dressed impeccably and glaring down at Drake. He had the aura of a man who didn’t like much of anything, but absolutely adored belittling and bossing around people.

Drake was very familiar with that aura; it had a very dominating presence in his childhood home. He gulped slightly but refused to let fear show on his face, though in the peripheral of his vision he could detect Launchpad putting a hand on Gosalyn and Louie’s shoulders.

“This is our interim curator,” The clerk said, her voice suddenly somewhat squeaky. Drake felt bad for her, she was clearly intimidated by the man. “Ignatius Coscoroba.”

Drake stuck out his hand. “Drake Mallard. Scrooge McDuck has sent me as a representative of McDuck Enterprises.”

Coscoroba sneered at him and disregarded his hand. “And what business does McDuck have with our establishment?”

“Mr. McDuck knows Mx. Corgison, and had urgent museum-related business.” Drake said, lowering his hand and trying hard not to feel like he had been slapped in the face.

“And Mr. McDuck didn’t feel it urgent enough to come himself?” Coscoroba demanded. “And instead sent puppets and—” He glanced behind Drake and his expression became even nastier. “Two children in his stead?”

“He sent me as a representative only because he had to take care of other urgent business,” Drake explained.

“Yes, yes, and that’s why my uncle sent me, Sir Louie Duck Esquire the Third, his _favorite_ heir, here to St. Canard,” Louie said, striding forward to stand at Drake’s side, his arms folded over his chest and smirking confidently. “So that the full weight of the situation was conveyed. We were hoping that this matter could be handled discreetly, without letting the Board become aware, but—”

“I don’t care who you are, or who you work for, or who you’re related to,” Coscoroba snapped, glaring down at Louie. “No one is getting to see the Crown before its debut. Now you and your non-existent ‘urgent business’ get out of my museum before I call security.”

*****

“So. That was a disaster,” Gosalyn said, resting her elbows on her knees as they sat outside on the fountain’s edge.

“Agreed,” Drake said, staring at the entrance to the museum. “Especially since I think it’s even more pertinent to get inside and lay eyes on the Crown. If nothing else to make sure that it’s still in the Museum.”

“You think it could have been stolen already or something?” Launchpad asked with wide eyes.

“I don’t know, but it’s hard to tell if Coscoroba is just a jerk with a superiority complex who enjoys making people miserable and taking any opportunity to do so, especially in the name of doing his job,” Drake said. “Or if he is trying to cover up that the Crown is no longer in the Museum. If it was, the board of directors may be trying to cover it up. Hence why Mx. Corgison isn’t here. Intimidating the entire staff could help with that, too.”

“Cool, so you’re going to put on your costume and waltz in there and demand to see it or what?” Louie asked, sounding excited.

“Haven’t quite decided,” Drake said, tapping a finger to the side of his beak in thought. “Because I really don’t want to meet Coscoroba’s security. But at the same time it’s not like I can walk back in there as Drake Mallard.”

“No way! Drake?”

Drake’s eyes widened momentarily as he recognized the voice that just excitedly called his name, then he groaned. “Oh no…”

“Drake! Bro!” Campbell Mallard greeted jovially as he approached, followed by a slender brown duck that Drake didn’t recognize. “Who’d have thought that after all these years, this is where we see each other again?”

If there was a camera nearby, Drake would have looked at it like he was on the hit television show, _The Workplace_.

“Oh, gee,” Drake said dryly as he narrowed his eyes at his brother. “It’s not like you exactly went out of your way to see me elsewhere. So, yes, total fluke of a coincidence. Terribly sorry about that. Good-bye.”

But, surprise, surprise, Campbell wasn’t listening and his attention was already elsewhere. In this case, on Gosalyn, which ruffled Drake’s feathers for multiple reasons.

“And you must be Gosalyn!” Campbell said excitedly. “It’s good to finally meet you!”

Gosalyn just arched an eyebrow at him and said, “Who the heck are you?”

Campbell’s chest puffed up as he said, “I’m your uncle! Campbell Mallard, your old man’s big bro!” He gestured to the woman next to him and put his arm around her. “And this is my wife, your aunt, Duclair.”

“Hello,” Duclair said without her husband’s enthusiasm.

Some part of Drake told him it was polite to introduce Launchpad and Louie. Then he remembered that this was his first time meeting his brother’s wife. He hadn’t even known Campbell had gotten married. He had blocked out all news of St. Canard in the last ten years. So, no, he was not going to introduce his significant other and their mutual boss’s great-nephew to his brother.

“So what brings you to this neck of the woods?” Campbell asked. “You’re living in Duckburg now, right?”

“Yes,” Drake said tightly and grateful for the cover story Scrooge had initially concocted as he followed up with, “Gosalyn and Louie were supposed to be writing a story for their school newspaper about the St. Canard Museum’s new acquisition, the Tyrant’s Lost Crown, but the interim curator refused to believe we had an appointment to do so.”

Campbell turned to Duclair. “Do you think that Lottie would be willing to show the kids the crown?”

Drake blinked. “Lottie?” He repeated.

“Charlotte Pekin,” Duclair answered. “She is the—”

“Museum’s lead conservationist, yes, I’ve heard of her,” Drake said, nodding. “You know her?”

“Yeah!” Campbell confirmed brightly. “We were actually coming here to meet up with her!”

“Lottie and I were roommates in college,” Duclair expounded. “She might be willing. And, if she cannot, I’ll speak with the interim curator.” Her dark eyes flashed with delight suddenly as she added, “After all, it would be in his best interest to uphold a commitment to the Mayor’s granddaughter. Especially given that the Museum does receive some city funding.”

Drake glanced at Launchpad and the kids. Louie and Gosalyn both looked at him expectantly, while Launchpad shrugged slightly.

Drake hated to use his biological family and their connections. Hated the association with them.

But they needed to see the Crown…

“Lead the way,” Drake said, resisting the urge to heave a sigh.

*****

Charlotte “Call me Lottie” Pekin was incredibly willing to show them the crown, and quickly sped down the hall in her wheelchair, exuberantly encouraging her guests to try to keep up.

“Honestly, I love to just go look at it,” Lottie explained excitedly. “So I’ll take any excuse to do so!”

“Have you done any conservation work on the piece?” Louie asked, notebook out under the guise of writing a report.

“Nope. Outside of my area of expertise,” Lottie said. “I mostly do paintings and documents. Metalwork and jewelry like this needs an expert.”

“Is there an expert like that on staff here?” Drake asked as they approached the vault door where the Crown was kept.

“Our current collection doesn’t facilitate a need for one on the payroll full-time,” Lottie explained as she put in the code. “The Board of Directors and curator are in the process of finding someone. Well, I know Sam—Sam Corgison, the _real_ curator—will be part of that process. I don’t know if Coscoroba is on that committee as interim.”

The door opened and the group entered.

Only to find out that the room already had an occupant.

Coscoroba sneered down at them all equally as he snapped, “Pekin, what is the meaning of this?”

Lottie sat up straighter in her chair, her expression still bright and sunny, though her eyes were steely behind her purple cats-eye glasses. Drake admired her for her courage, and the thought “She’d make a great crime-fighter” flashed through his head.

“Mr. Coscoroba,” She said sweetly. “Have I introduced you to my dearest friend, Duclair Mallard, and her husband, Campbell? In addition to being _Mayor_ Mallard’s son and daughter-in-law, they both work in the _Mayor_’s office. They asked if I could show their niece—the _Mayor_’s granddaughter—and her friend the Crown for a school project.”

Drake rather enjoyed watching Coscoroba’s expression twist and eyebrow twitch every time Lottie brought up and emphasized the word ‘Mayor’.

“Fine,” Coscoroba snapped. “But under my supervision, and not for an extended period of time.”

Lottie smiled and nodded.

Coscoroba, grumbling under his breath, walked further into the vault. As he moved, the Crown was revealed, sitting on a pedestal in the center of the vault in a glass case.

“Keen gear!” Gosalyn gasped as she walked forward, her eyes wide. “It’s so cool!”

“And pretty,” Campbell added as he also stepped forward for a closer look.

“Hard to believe that something so nice looking was the cause of so much trouble for so many people,” Launchpad said, coming over and putting his hand on Gos’s shoulder.

Now that he had laid eyes on the crown, Drake took that moment as an opportunity to glance around the vault, noting security cameras and other features. But he kept his ears open as he heard Louie ask,

“It’s been authenticated, right?”

“Of course it’s been authenticated, you insolent child!” Coscoroba snapped.

Louie frowned, but it was more aimed at the Crown—which he stood on his toes to look at—rather than the curator’s words. “Who authenticated it? What tests were used?”

“None of that is of your concern, and even if it was it is too much information for your little report,” Coscoroba barked.

Louie rocked back onto his heels and looked at Lottie beside him. “And you don’t have any idea who donated it? The initial reports were saying it was an anonymous donation, but you must know who brought it in, right? For provenance and stuff?”

“No, we have no idea,” Lottie answered. “It just… showed up. Came in an unmarked box with a note saying what it is. Honestly, we thought it was a bomb or something at first and called the police. It all just seems too good to be true.”

_Maybe because it is,_ Drake thought. He met Launchpad’s eyes, seeing the pilot think the same thing.

Question is, why? Was it bait for a trap? Was it part of some larger scheme? Coscoroba was very unwilling to answer Louie’s question about the authentication process…

“Now that you have seen the Crown, you can ask Ms. Pekin all of your inane questions elsewhere,” Coscoroba said through gritted teeth.

The message was quite clear for all: it was time to go, and that they had long over-stayed their welcome.

Now Drake just needed to regroup with his team.

*****

“You’re sure you can’t come to dinner with us?” Campbell asked Drake, his eyes sad.

“Sorry, we have other plans,” Drake said, turning to focus on Gosalyn, Launchpad, Louie, Lottie and Duclair across the room as Lottie gave an “interview” to the two kids. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

Campbell was quiet for a moment, then he said, “You know… It’s really cool what you did. Adopting Gosalyn.”

“She needed a family, someone to love her unconditionally and support her no matter what,” Drake said, trying hard not to let bitterness seep into his voice and the ‘unlike some other people who call themselves family’ that was on the tip of his tongue from slipping out. “I love her. She’s probably the greatest thing to ever happen to me.”

“I can tell, by the way you look at her,” Campbell said. He smiled some and added, “And your boyfriend, too.”

Drake bristled, waiting. For what, he didn’t know. Some snide comment, or some ignorant assumption, or…

“He treat you right?” Campbell asked.

Well, whatever Drake had been waiting for, that hadn’t been what he was expecting.

“Of course he does,” Drake said. “And he loves Gos as much as I do. And she adores him.”

“You’ve got a nice little family,” Campbell said, a bit wistfully. “Drake, when do you head back to Duckburg?”

“Not entirely certain.”

“Do you still have my number?”

“No.” Drake said flatly.

“Well, here it is,” Campbell said, pulling out a business card and putting it in Drake’s hand. “Let’s try to get together again before you leave town.”

“Why on earth would you want to do that?” Drake couldn’t stop himself from asking out-loud.

Campbell looked a bit taken aback, then he said, “Because I’ve missed my brother. Haven’t… well, haven’t you missed me? Or Binkie? Mom and Dad?”

“Campbell, do you remember why I left?” Drake demanded. “Remember what was said and done? Why would I miss any of you, any of that? It’s been ten years, Campbell. Why do you want to catch up now?”

“Drake, come on.”

“I left St. Canard with a black eye, Campbell. And you just stood there and watched as he yelled at me.”

“I’m sorry. I really am,” Campbell said, voice earnest. “Drake—”

“You can apologize, and I can forgive—but I’m not going to forget,” Drake snapped. “Ever. I can’t pretend it never happened.”

Campbell was quiet for a long moment, then he whispered, “I’m sorry, Drake.”

“Yeah,” Drake said, walking away to rejoin his family—his real family. “So am I.”

*****

“The crown’s fake,” Louie stated plainly as they sat around the in-suite table with a pizza.

“How do you know?” Drake asked as he passed around napkins. “Because that jerk Coscoroba wouldn’t tell you how they authenticated it?”

Louie huffed in a way a pre-teen way that said ‘it is so obvious, duh’ before he explained, “Drake, there are only three people in the world who would have something like that crown: Uncle Scrooge, Goldie O’Gilt who got it by stealing it from Uncle Scrooge, and Flintheart Glomgold—who most likely got it by a fluke. Uncle Scrooge would never donate something like the Tyrant’s Lost Crown to a museum if he thought it could be dangerous. Aunt Goldie would sell it on the black market and definitely try to get something out of it, and not a nice tax deduction. And Glomgold would never give something like this anonymously. He’d try to rub it in Scrooge’s face and make sure everyone knew it was him. Point is, something like that doesn’t just get shipped to a museum with an unlabeled box with a note. Besides,” Louie said, taking a bite out of his pizza and continuing to speak with a full mouth. “The jewels in the crown are fake.”

“They were?” Launchpad asked, surprised.

“How can you tell?” Gosalyn asked, leaning forward on the table.

“It’s in the cut,” Louie said. “The gems were cut with modern tools, but done in a way to make it look like it was done with ancient tools. And badly enough that I could tell without any microscope pieces. So, yeah, those were fancy rhinestones we were looking at. Nowhere near the real-deal. Oh, and the gold is fake. Paint, apparently. Again, done badly enough that I could tell without getting too close of a look. Everything about that crown is as fake as Mark Beaks’ social media feed.”

“Oh… ‘Kay?” Drake said, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with Launchpad, who looked just as confused and stunned as he felt. “How do you know what to look for when it comes to cut gemstones?”

Louie smirked in a self-satisfied way, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes smugly closed. “Webby once tricked me into thinking a plastic gemstone from a souvenir shop was real because she thinks that adventuring is about learning; I took some online classes to learn more about real gems so she can’t trick me again and will realize once and for all that adventuring is about the treasure.”

Drake took a deep breath, then said, “Uh, Louie? You do know that means that you sought out learning to prove your point about adventuring. Which in turn validates Webby’s point.”

Louie’s eyes popped open and he looked briefly horrified before huffing and looking dejected. “Ah, phooey…”

“So the crown is fake.” Gosalyn said, sitting back in her seat. “That means that even if Magica De Spell got it, there would be nothing she could do with it. So now what? Do we go home?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Drake said, shaking his head slightly. “If nothing else, knowing that the Crown we saw was fake—and apparently bad enough of a fake that we didn’t need special tools to know that—is even more reason to stay here.”

“Why is it being a bad fake important?” Gosalyn asked.

“Because that means it was a rushed job,” Louie answered. “So, where is the real Crown then? Is what we saw a decoy, and the real crown hidden away?”

“The real Crown could have been stolen way before we got here,” Launchpad suggested. “But did it get stolen before or after that Coscoroba guy showed up at the museum?”

“You’re wondering if it has something to do with Corgison’s sudden leave of absence?” Drake asked.

“Yeah,” Launchpad said with a nod as he grabbed another slice of pizza. “Because Coscoroba is really protective of that Crown. He must know it’s a fake. So did he steal it and replace it with a fake?”

“Or, like Drake said earlier, did it get stolen on Corgison’s watch and they got in trouble with the Board of Directors?” Louie asked.

“There’s a third option, though,” Drake said. “Corgison stole the Crown and disappeared, and the Board of Directors is trying to cover it up to preserve the museum’s reputation.”

“Corgison could be in league with Magica De Spell, then,” Gosalyn said. “Or, worse, be controlled by her. And that’s why they stole it. Either way, Magica already has what we came to protect from her.”

“Fourth option!” Louie said as he tore a mushroom off his pizza and tossed it in his mouth. “It’s a bad fake, there was never a real crown, the Museum fakes the authentication process, gets it insured for gazillions of dollars then, wait, what? It got stolen or destroyed? Oh, how horrible, thank you insurance company for your condolences and the insane amount of money the museum now has.”

“If that’s the case, then that could be a ploy by the Board of Directors, and Corgison didn’t want to go through with it, and so the Board got rid of them and replaced them with Coscoroba who would go through with the plan,” Gosalyn said.

“We have a lot of theories and no clues to guide us,” Drake said. “But we do know two things: the Crown in the vault is a fake, and whatever is going on is tied to the curator. So we need to get back to the museum and do some investigating. Here’s the plan. Launchpad, Gosalyn, you two are going to break into the Curator’s office and do some digging. Meanwhile, Louie and I are going to do some more searching to see if we can find a real Crown.”

Launchpad and Gosalyn nodded as they accepted their assignments, but Louie seemed surprised. “Really? You want me to go with you?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Drake said. “You’d know what the real Crown would look like better than I do, you’re great at thinking on your feet, and I’m going to need back-up.”

Louie suddenly grinned. “Can I wear a mask, too?”

“Sure, I’ve got a spare,” Drake said.

“Actually…” Louie said, jumping up from the table and running to his backpack, pulling out a piece of green fabric. “I brought my own!” He quickly tied the mask on and struck a heroic pose, saying, “Call me Copystrike!”

Drake grinned. “We’ll make a top-notch crime-fighter out of you yet, Louie Duck.” He clapped his hands together and said, “Alright, team.

“Let’s get dangerous.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Vibrant_Orchid for suggesting Louie's superhero name of "Copystrike"!


	3. Chapter 3

Fortunately, the phrase ‘Scrooge McDuck sent me’ worked better with the St. Canard cops than it did with the St. Canard Museum, so at least they didn’t have to worry about getting arrested if they accidentally tripped any silent alarms. The team quickly keyed in the code, got in the building, and split up.

“Alright, Copystrike,” Darkwing said as they approached the vault, punching in the code he had watched Lottie put in earlier. “Let’s get to work.”

“So… where do we begin?” Louie asked as he looked around the room.

“Look for the drawers that look big enough for the real crown,” Darkwing suggested. “Or anything that might indicate where it really is.”

Louie nodded and got to work. After working in quiet for a few minutes, Louie said, “Hey, Darkwing?”

“Yeah?” Darkwing prompted. “You find something?”

“No, but I had a question.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

“What led to Gos, er, the Crimson Quackette calling you ‘Dad’ so fast?”

This made Darkwing pause. Of all the questions he was expecting, this wasn’t one of them. “I don’t know? It was her decision. It might be better to ask her.”

“I did but she just kind of gave me a vague answer and something about how it just felt right,” Louie said, huffing and leaning against the vault drawers. “You’ve only been her dad for, what? Four, five months now?”

“One hundred and seventy-eight days,” Darkwing said specifically.

“Precisely!” Louie said, extending his arms out in front of him in a slightly exasperated manner. “You’ve been her dad for exactly one hundred and seventy-eight days and no one would ever know that just watching you two. You’re, like, some sort of model family or whatever.”

Darkwing paused and turned to look at Louie, who was staring at the Crown across from him. Well, more like glaring it down.

“Okay, what’s this really about?” He asked. “And does it have something to do with your mom and why you moved into your uncle’s houseboat?”

Louie sighed. “Yeah. I guess. It’s just… Mom has always been my Mom. I know that. But she hasn’t exactly been my Mom? Like, there’s sometimes I forget that she’s my Mom because I haven’t had a Mom my whole life? Does that make sense?”

“Right, because she was gone for so long,” Darkwing said, nodding.

“Exactly! So it’s just…” He sighed again and blinked a couple of times before turning his back on Darkwing, going back to examining the drawers, or at least pretending to. “I know Mom is trying. And I’ve been trying to give her a chance to be my Mom, and figure out what that means. I know she loves me, and I love her, I really do, it’s just… I don’t get her and I don’t think she gets me. But it’s so easy for Huey and Dewey and Mom to get along because they’re more like her, and they quickly accepted her into our lives but…” Louie trailed off into silence for a moment, then he whispered, “I dunno. Maybe I’m just a bad kid. Because I still don’t see her as my Mom, so maybe I don’t love her enough or something. And there’s sometimes I’m not even sure I want her in my life as a Mom. I just don’t know what to do with her, I guess. So I’m a horrible kid because I got my long-lost Mom back and I just don’t know what to do with her or how I feel.”

Darkwing blinked and crossed the room in an instant, putting his hands on Louie’s shoulders and putting aside Darkwing Duck in favor for Darkwing Dad.

“Louie, listen to me,” Darkwing said. “You’re not a bad kid. You’re a good kid, whose entire life—everything you knew and were familiar with—got upended. You’re still adjusting to that change, and figuring out who you are as well as figuring out who your Mom is. Your Mom is still trying to figure out who she is now that she’s back from what sounds like a pretty traumatic experience. So she’s figuring out what it means to be a regular person, a sister, a niece, and a mother all in one go. And you’re growing up, so you’re figuring out who you want to be. You’re allowed to have big feelings, and to be unsure of this new relationship—one you don’t really have a lot of experience with. Your mom was ready to jump into a mother-son relationship headfirst, because that’s who she is. But you’re still testing the waters. That’s fine, that’s okay, and that’s healthy. You’re going at the pace that you want to go at, and you can’t let how fast your brothers or anyone else is going make you feel bad, because they’re also going at the pace they are comfortable with.”

“Yeah, well, what if I keep going slow and it never gets any better?” Louie demanded, wiping at his eyes with his hoodie sleeve. “What if I’m always stuck feeling like the odd one out in my own family? What if they never love me like I love them? What if they don’t even want me to be part of the family anymore? What if I’m not good enough for them? I mean, the only thing I’m good at is coming up with schemes, and Huey and Dewey hate that, and Mom said that if I keep scheming I can’t be part of the family, and what if there’s just not enough room for five people in the family so they just kick me out?”

That sent a jolt through Darkwing’s heart.

_Act like a Mallard is supposed to for once in your life, Drake, or don’t consider yourself a Mallard at all._

His dad’s words had hurt, hurt even worse than the black-eye he had just been given, but not as much as Campbell’s had in the painful, excruciatingly quiet that followed.

_Can’t you just do as Dad asks? We’ll all be happier if you just do as he says._

An eighteen year old Drake Mallard made his decision.

It did not involve doing what he was told.

And it did involve no longer being part of his family.

Darkwing made a mental note to self to shake some sense into Della later as he got down on one knee to look Louie in the eye.

“Louie, you said five people, right?” He said. “You don’t think there’s room for five people in your family?”

“Yeah?” Louie said, suspiciously.

“Before, it was always four. You, your brothers, and your Uncle Donald. Then your mom makes five.”

Louie nodded.

“Okay. But your family is much bigger than five people now. You’ve got your Uncle Scrooge, and Webby, and Mrs. B, and Launchpad, and Gos, and me. You know that, right?”

Louie nodded again, but it took him a moment to do so.

“Your brothers, your mom, your uncles, they’re always going to want you to be part of the family,” Drake told him. “So, yeah, maybe you feel like the odd one out. But I promise you, you are loved and every much a part of that family as anyone else. You’re more than good enough for them. And who said that scheming is the only thing you’re good at?”

“Probably no one, since I fail with them so often,” Louie grumbled.

“And what do you do? You think of another one, and you think much faster on your feet than most adults. And you find out more information related to your interests. Like that Crown,” Darkwing gestured to the Crown at the center of the room. “The Crown that we now know is fake, thanks to you. If you hadn’t come along, I would never have figured that out. Would never have any suspicions about the curators, or that the Crown was anything but the real thing. You’re good at finding people’s strengths and weaknesses. And, guess what? You’re eleven. You’re not supposed to know everything that you’re good at yet, because there’s still a lot about yourself to discover. Trust me. There’s a lot of adults who are still trying to figure out everything about themselves. And I’m speaking from experience.”

Louie seemed to relax at that, but still looked a bit suspicious, like Darkwing was humoring him. “Adults really don’t have it all figured out?”

“Nope.”

Louie relaxed further and grinned. “That’s cool to know. Adults always act like they know best.”

“It’s all a trick, an illusion, a slight of hand, a—” Darkwing cut himself off, thinking as he looked back at the Crown. “It’s all fake.” He said after a moment.

“What do you mean by that?” Louie asked. He glanced over at the Crown. “We already know the Crown is a fake.”

“Yes, but the Crown isn’t the only fake thing around here,” Darkwing said. Before he could further elaborate, his phone rang, blasting the _Darkwing Duck_ theme song. Darkwing quickly swiped to answer the call, seeing that it was from Gosalyn. “You find something, Crimson Quackette?”

“Darkwing, you need to come towards the Curator’s office now!” Gosalyn said, sounding panicked.

Darkwing beckoned Louie to follow him as they ran out of the vault. “What’s wrong?”

“We found the real Curator, Sam Corgison!” Gosalyn said a bit breathlessly. “And they’re hurt!”

*****

When Darkwing and Louie arrived to find Launchpad on the phone with a 9-1-1 operator, hovering over an unconscious person, Gosalyn quickly explained. While they were doing digging in the Curator’s office, they found a secret passage that led to an abandoned apartment (“What is it about this city and secret apartments?” Darkwing had exclaimed). There, they found Corgison lying on the floor. They found evidence of food and water, but the Curator had yet to be roused.

Darkwing told Launchpad to take the kids back to the hotel, and that he would call him later. The EMTs were surprisingly lenient about letting Darkwing ride in the ambulance with Corgison, but he wasn’t complaining. From the Emergency Room waiting area, Darkwing placed a call.

Twenty minutes later, Lottie Pekin burst through the doors, and Darkwing had to grit his teeth when he saw that Campbell and Duclair Mallard arrived with her.

“Ms. Pekin, thank you for coming,” Darkwing said, approaching her.

“You’re the one who called me?” Lottie demanded, looking shaken. “About Sam?”

“Yes,” Darkwing said. “Darkwing Duck, at your service.”

“No way,” Campbell breathed with surprise and admiration. “Darkwing Duck? Like, for real? You’re Darkwing Duck?”

Well that was surprising… Campbell had watched a few episodes with him when they were kids, but he never seemed too interested.

“Yes way,” Darkwing said. “I got a tip to investigate happenings at the St. Canard Museum when my partner and I found Mx. Corgison. Your business card was one we found in Mx. Corgison’s desk while investigating, and I thought it would be best to call one of Mx. Corgison’s coworkers.”

Lottie nodded. “I’ll call their parents and sister in a bit. Have you alerted the Board of Directors?”

“No, not yet.” Darkwing said. “I’m hoping to speak with Mx. Corgison before that.”

“Who gave you the tip to investigate the Museum?” Duclair asked, looking at Darkwing suspiciously.

“That’s need-to-know information, and you don’t need to know,” Darkwing responded, making Duclair’s frown deepen.

“Where was Sam locked up in?” Lottie asked. Darkwing explained and Lottie slumped in her wheelchair some, shaking her head. “All that time, they were locked in the Museum the entire time. A whole week, right under our noses, and we never knew…”

“Why was the apartment even there?” Campbell asked.

“It may have been built for a custodian who lived in the building for security reasons, or the first curator may have had it specially built to live in, again for security reasons,” Darkwing said. “Now, I have some questions for you, Ms. Pekin, about this past week, if you don’t mind.”

“You don’t think Lottie locked Mx. Corgison in that horrible place, do you?” Duclair demanded, and Darkwing could see her metaphorical hackles raising.

“No, but I have an idea of who did,” Darkwing asked. “I’ve given my number to the nurses, they’ll alert us when they have more information on Mx. Corgison. For now, let’s go talk in private.”

Darkwing led the three to an adjacent garden he had scoped out on the way in, which seemed to help Lottie calm down a bit.

“First thing I need to know,” Darkwing said. “You said that Mx. Corgison had only been gone for a week?”

“Yes,” Lottie said.

“When did you last see them?”

“Monday night, when I was leaving work. I stopped by their office to give them a piece of paperwork that needed approval. They said that they were going to stay late, that wasn’t too unusual for them,” Lottie said. She frowned. “Looking back on it, that should have been the first sign something was wrong. They said they wanted to talk with me about something the next morning, about a new exhibit.”

“One for the Lost Crown of the Tyrant?” Darkwing asked.

Lottie shook her head. “No. That didn’t come until Wednesday, actually.”

Darkwing nodded. “And what was your first indicator that Mx. Corgison was absent?”

Lottie’s face darkened. “The arrival of Ignatius Coscoroba,” She said irritably. “Strutted in like he owned the place at our Tuesday morning staff meeting. Said that Sam was taking an indefinite leave of absence, that he had been appointed by the Board, refused to answer our questions and started barking orders.” She put her head in her hands. “Sam’s dad had a health scare a few months back. I just thought that something happened during the night, that they went home to help their mom… That’s why I stopped texting them and sending them e-mails, figuring that they were helping and didn’t have time… I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Duclair insisted, putting her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “There’s no way you could have known.”

“So for a time-frame, Mx. Corgison was last seen on Monday, Coscoroba was first seen on Tuesday, and the Crown on Wednesday?” Darkwing asked.

Lottie nodded.

“Who performed the authentication of the Crown? Someone you’ve worked with before? And who was given the results?”

“It wasn’t someone the Museum has used before,” Lottie said. “But they flew out immediately to do the authentication. I didn’t recognize the name, but that was because they were from Toucanistan. And the results were given to Coscoroba.”

“Would you say, in your professional opinion, that it was authenticated really quickly?” Darkwing asked.

“Yeah. Actually, I told Coscoroba that. He told me that I should stick to my area of expertise, and this guy would stick to his.”

“Why does that stupid Crown matter with this?” Duclair demanded of Darkwing.

“A lot, actually,” Darkwing said, right as his phone began to sing,

_“Daring duck of mystery, Champion of right, Swoops out of the shadows—”_

Darkwing answered the phone and nodded, then said, “We’ll be right there.” After he hung up, he told Lottie, “Mx. Corigson is awake. The nurses said they could have a visitor before they are moved upstairs.”

Lottie smiled. “Then let’s go!”

Lottie raced ahead, Duclair—who was evidentially used to keeping up with Lottie—trailing closely behind.

Darkwing got up to follow…

“Uh, Mr. Darkwing? Could I ask for a favor?”

Darkwing groaned internally, once more left again with Campbell.

“Such as?” He asked, trying hard not to snap.

“Can I take a photo of you?” Campbell asked, trying hard and failing to restrain his excitement.

Now, ordinarily, Darkwing would have been thrilled for this. He kept signed photos of himself in his uniform at all times for this moment. But because of who was asking…

“Oh, gee, I’m kind of camera-shy,” He lied. “Why I work at night, you know. And hang out in the shadows.”

“Please?” Campbell begged. “Look, it’s not for me. It’s for my brother, Drake.”

Darkwing blinked, staring at him.

Did he just say…?

“See, my brother, he’s a huge fan of the _Darkwing Duck_ show, has been ever since we were kids,” Campbell continued. “And, honestly? I think he’s a better person because of it.”

Darkwing stared at him. “What do you mean?” He asked, drawing out the words more than he had intended.

“I mean, he was a lot braver. Braver than I ever could be. He was always good about standing up for himself. But never to our Dad. At least, not until the night he left.” Campbell rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I don’t… I don’t always agree with my father, but I’ve never been brave enough to really challenge him. Not like Drake did. Or to leave that influence. And I made some mistakes. A lot, actually. Tried to convince him to just do what he was told by our Dad, so that we could be a happy family. But I realize now that he never would have been happy if he listened to me, not like he is now.”

Darkwing was stunned. He had never heard Campbell say anything so eloquently. At least, nothing that hadn’t been prepared for him in advance by a speech writer. But this raw and honest. Campbell had no idea who was behind the mask. He didn’t have his father standing over his shoulder. He wasn’t trying to charm or impress anyone.

And for the first time, Drake had to wonder if he really knew his brother at all.

Campbell sighed. “No, this is stupid. A photo of Darkwing Duck isn’t going to convince him to talk with me, or get his forgiveness. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked…”

“No, it’s fine,” Darkwing said. “But I’ll do it on one condition: tell your brother everything you just told me. Because I doubt you have.”

“I haven’t,” Campbell confirmed. “But I don’t know if he’ll listen to me at all.”

“You at least need to try,” Darkwing told him. “Give him a chance to give you a chance.

“Now. What kind of photo were you thinking?”

*****

Drake slipped the roomkey card back into his shirt pocket and stepped into the suite. Despite being past midnight, everyone was awake. Louie and Gosalyn were sprawled on the couch watching _Ottoman Empire_ and Launchpad sat in the armchair with a comic book.

Gosalyn grabbed the remote and muted the television.

“How is Mx. Corgison?” She asked as Drake settled himself into Launchpad’s lap.

“Doctors said that they will be okay,” Drake said. “That they’re dehydrated and malnourished, and they’re breathing was a bit shallow. Toxicology report found that there was a lot of sleeping drugs in their system. The doctor said that he thinks that the food they ate and water they drank over the last few days was laced with it. Once those have cleared their system entirely, recovery should be easier.”

“That’s good,” Gosalyn said, slumping back with relief.

“Did they say who locked them up?” Launchpad asked.

“Actually, they were easily able to confirm once they were shown a picture,” Drake said.

“What did you mean earlier when you said it was all fake?” Louie asked.

Drake grinned. “Well, you see…”

******

Ignatius Coscoroba threw open the door to the Curator’s office.

And froze when he saw all of the members of the Board of Directors standing behind the desk, glaring at him.

“Ignatius Coscoroba, we presume?” Snapped one of the older members. “Given that we have never actually met?”

Coscoroba cleared his throat. “What is the meaning of this?” He demanded. “Why are you all in my office?”

Suddenly, the chair behind the desk turned, revealing a smirking duck wearing a ridiculous purple cape, a mask and an over-sized hat, his fingers steepled together.

“Glad you could join us, Coscoroba,” He said. “My name, by the way, is Darkwing Duck. I thought you should know the name of the brilliant mind who defeated you.”

“Defeated me?” Coscoroba asked, sweating slightly and reaching behind him for the door. “I have no idea what you are talking about…”

“If you wish to have this conversation at the St. Canard police station, go out that door. Otherwise, we’ll do it here, in relative comfort,” Darkwing said, propping his feet on the desk.

“The police station? Whatever are you talking about?” Coscoroba said, bringing his hand behind his back.

“For your charges of theft, false imprisonment, and fraud,” Darkwing said. “Let me outline this for you…”

“Last Monday night, you abducted Curator Sam Corgison from this very office and locked them in the secret apartment. The apartment is on the original blueprints of the Museum, and can be easily accessed at the local library. Then the next morning, you entered and informed the staff—falsely—that you were the interim Curator. You also faked e-mails from the Board of Directors, these lovely ladies and gentlemen none the wiser.

“Wednesday, a mysterious, anonymous package arrives supposedly bearing the Tyrant of Toucanistan’s Lost Crown. By Thursday, the Crown is authenticated and in the news. All eyes are on the Crown. There’s just one problem: the authenticator was as much of a fraud as you are, and the Crown is faker than a politician’s honesty. You couldn’t even name one of the authentication tests if you tried, let alone describe it. Neither could your supposed Toucanistani authenticator.

“You wanted all eyes on the Crown. Everyone interested in the Crown. And you also wanted as little attention on you as possible, and achieved that by striking fear into the hearts of the Museum’s employees. This made everyone avoid you, and therefore give you power and freedom over every aspect of the Museum. Because you came here on a mission: you wanted something else in the Museum’s collection. Something that is actually valuable. The question is, what? And is it still here or has it been sold on the black market?”

“Lies!” Coscoroba hissed. “All lies!”

“You can say that, but I’ve already looked into all your so-called references, especially your education ones,” Darkwing said. “No one has ever heard of an Ignatius Coscoroba. But a funny thing did happen, when I was looking through a criminal database. Your face appeared. You’re wanted in six countries, Borris Humblebottom. With a name like that, I don’t blame you for turning to a life of crime, per se, but I do need answers before you get turned over to the authorities.”

Ignatius Coscoroba, now outed as Borris Humblebottom, sneered and rushed forward, throwing aside a Board member to go into the secret passageway…

Only to smack face-first into a wall of muscle, knocking him flat on his back. Launchpad had him on his stomach and his arms pinned behind his back before he could recover.

“Ah, I see you’ve met my partner, Pilot.” Darkwing said with glee as he stepped over to smirk down at the fighting Humblebottom. “Now would you like to try this again and answer my questions?”


	4. Chapter 4

In the back of the _Sunchaser_, Huey, Dewey and Webby clutched tightly to the armrests of their seats with wide-eyes as the plane teetered this way then that.

“Is this turbulence?” Huey asked.

“No, this most definitely is _not_ turbulence!” Webby responded.

“Launchpad’s crashes are smoother than this flight,” Dewey said, though he said it in a low enough voice so that his mother couldn’t hear. “I’ve never seen Mom fly like this before.”

“Worse, I don’t think Donald and Uncle Scrooge have either,” Webby said.

At the front of the plane, Donald was tugging on the strap of his seatbelt while Scrooge was using one hand to hold onto his hat and the other to grab the console of the plane, trying to stay upright.

“Della, lass, you know I would never tell you how to fly a plane—” Scrooge said.

“BUT ACTUALLY FLY THE PLANE!” Donald yelled, because he had no such qualms.

“I can’t do anything right!” Della moaned as she tried to keep the plane upright, only to fail as she turned to face Donald. “What am I doing wrong as a mom? How do I keep screwing up? Why do I keep screwing up? Can I even fix this? Is it too late? What if I’m such a screw up as a mom that this like, effects Louie’s psyche or something?”

“YOUR PILOTING IS GOING TO EFFECT OUR HEALTH IF YOU DON’T ACTUALLY PILOT!” Donald told her.

Della righted the plane again and continued, “You’re right, I’m too late, I’ve ruined his psyche. He’s going to become a criminal or something and it will be all my fault.”

“Louie’s not going to be a criminal or anything of the like,” Scrooge said. “He’s just going through a—DELLA WATCH OUT!”

There was much screaming as the _Sunchaser _crashed through the trees, the plane finally coming to a stop ironically right in front of their destination.

Donald groaned and pushed himself upright, turning around to look over his shoulder. “Huey! Dewey! Webby!”

“We’re okay!” Webby called back, her voice a bit shaky, both boys clinging to her and her to them.

“Mom, no offense, but please take some crashing lessons from Launchpad!” Huey said.

Della groaned and put her arms on the console, laying her face against her arms. “I can’t even _crash_ right… Of course, all my problems and failings as a mother come from _not being able to crash right_!”

Scrooge and Donald exchanged a look.

“Well then,” Scrooge said, disentangling himself from his seatbelt. “Let’s get to work, shall we? Can’t let Magica DeSpell get her hands on that Blood Ruby. You know. Bigger problems at hand.”

All slightly shaky from the crash, they exited the plane—which, miraculously, seemed to have not taken any real damage—and entered the cave.

Della trailed behind, her eyes on the ground.

Dewey and Huey exchanged a look up ahead, and Dewey then dropped back to grab Della’s hand. “Mom, look! It’s a cobra pit! With vines to swing over! Betcha I can get across before you!”

Ordinarily, this would have been met with an “You’re on!” or “Wanna bet?”. But instead Della just nodded and said, “I’m sure you will, sweetie. Because in addition to being a failure as a mother and a pilot, I will most definitely fail at vine swinging over cobra pits. How about I just jump into the cobra pit now and save everyone the trouble of watching me fail.”

Donald huffed and pushed up his sleeves, saying, “Alright, that’s it!” To Scrooge, he said, “You and the kids go get the Blood Ruby. I’m going to have a talk with this big palooka and end this once and for all.”

“Is Uncle Donald going to push Mom into the cobra pit?” Huey asked Scrooge as he herded the kids further into the tunnel.

“No,” Scrooge said quickly.

At least, he didn’t think so.

Donald grabbed Della and sat her down on the floor.

“You’re not a failure as a mom,” He told her.

“Yes. I am. My own son won’t look at me, and he hates me, and he moved out, Donald. He’s eleven and he moved out. To the backyard, but he still moved out,” Della stressed. “I just… I keep screwing up. And every time I screw up, you or Uncle Scrooge or Mrs. B or someone else is the one who has to fix the mess I made.”

“You get yourself out of messes, too,” Donald told her. “Did you or did you not rebuild the _Spear of Selene_ multiple times?”

“I don’t want to talk about the _Spear of Selene_,” Della snapped sharply. “I don’t want to talk about the moon.”

“Okay,” Donald said simply. “Then we’ll talk about something else. In this case, we’re going to talk about Louie.”

“And about how much he hates me and how much I’ve screwed up and—” Della suddenly gasped, her eyes wide and sad. “Oh, oh no, I really have already screwed up his psyche, haven’t I?”

“Della,” Donald said patiently. “I’m going to talk now, and you’re going to listen. Okay?”

Della nodded. “Okay.”

Donald nodded and said, “I’m going to tell you the story of the night the boys hatched.”

“Oh, gee, thanks, Donald,” Della said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Thank you for telling me the story about the day I was an ultimate failure as a mom and missing the hatching of my own kids.”

“Della, I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen,” Donald said sharply. Della huffed but snapped her beak shut, glaring at him. Donald cleared his throat. “You had been gone for three days. I had been on my own with the eggs for three days. I left the mansion, and I used all my savings to buy the houseboat, and immediately set up a nest for the boys. I knew they were supposed to hatch any day. It was late at night, but I couldn’t sleep. I had barely ate. I just kept staring at the eggs, and being angry. Angry at Uncle Scrooge, angry at you, angry at myself for leaving Uncle Scrooge and angry for myself for wondering if I should go back. And I was sad, because I thought you were dead and I missed you, and Uncle Scrooge, and I was scared because I was all alone with the boys and I didn’t know what I was doing. But I was just starting to fall asleep when I heard the first egg crack.

“Huey came out of his egg slowly, cautiously, and methodically. If there was any proper way to come out of an egg, he did it. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he had some sort of _Junior_ Junior Woodchuck Guide on how to be born. I barely had Huey in my arms when three seconds later, Dewey… Well, if Huey was slow and methodical, Dewey was the opposite. He practically exploded from his egg and immediately demanded attention. And so I’m sitting on the floor in front of the nest, and I have Huey in one arm and Dewey in the other, and I’m just staring at Louie’s egg, begging him to hatch already, watching the clock anxiously.

“Fifteen minutes passed. He didn’t hatch. Half an hour passed, and I started to panic and debated on whether I needed to call for medical attention because he still hadn’t hatched. Forty-five minutes passed, and I’m sitting there with Huey and Dewey both crying and I’m crying because I just felt so defeated. I lost you. And I thought I lost your son. I had failed. And then the clock struck midnight. And you know what happened?”

“What?” Della asked, her eyes tearing up as she saw Donald’s do the same, emotion heavy in his voice, making his speech impediment worse. But Della always understood her brother, no matter what.

Donald smiled and wiped at his eye. “The clock struck midnight and the egg began to crack. Three minutes later, Louie was out of the egg. I brought him into my arms, and I’m crying, and so are Huey and Dewey though they don’t know what’s going on. And you know what Louie does?”

“What?” Della asked.

Donald threw back his head and laughed. “The little monster fell asleep! Right then and there, on my chest! It was too much work to get out of the egg for him. Got his own separate birthday out of it, too, sneaky little guy. You were right to want to name him Rebel. He’s always been one. He proved it that night.”

“Should have stuck with the list I gave you,” Della said, grinning and chuckling. “Jet, Turbo, and Rebel Duck. Legends in the making.”

“I decided that I didn’t want their teachers to hate them, thank you very much,” Donald told her, giving her a light punch on the arm. “Do you know why I wanted you to know this story?”

“Because I missed out on so much, and not being there from the beginning means I’ll never really know my boys,” Della said, her smile dropping.

“No, Dumbella,” Donald told her. “It’s because it’s the best story that I have to illustrate how different the boys are, how they hatched with their own unique personalities. Louie likes adventuring, but not to the same extent that Huey and Dewey do. It exhausts him, because he doesn’t have the same thrill of the hunt, love for the unexpected, and constant need to seek adventures out that you and Uncle Scrooge do.”

“I know that, I get that, I really do,” Della told him, nodding.

“No, I don’t think you really do,” Donald argued. “And it’s not because you’re a bad mother, so don’t even think that. Before the boys hatched, you had all these grand plans for us all to go adventuring as a family. You whole-heartedly believed that all three of the boys would love it as much as you do. And if the last ten years with the boys and thirty years with you and Uncle Scrooge have taught me anything, nothing goes exactly according to plan. Ever. You didn’t take into consideration that one of them may not be as adventurous as everyone else. The problem is, you haven’t figured out how to connect with Louie in a way that doesn’t involve adventures. Adventuring is a large part of who you are, and a large part of who Dewey and Huey are so it made it easier for you to bond with those two. But it’s only a small part of who Louie is, and it’s hard for him to connect to you when it’s small to him and big to you.”

“So, what do you suggest I do?” Della asked. “How do I find what is his large part? I know scheming and coming up with big ideas is one thing.”

“Yes, but it’s not the only thing,” Donald told her. “He connects well when it comes to personal one-on-one time. Go out to eat with him, or go to Funso’s and play in the arcade, or watch a movie together.” He placed his hand on Della’s metal knee and smiled. “Adventures don’t have to be big and grand, and the small things are great for good memories, too.”

Della smiled. “Thanks, Donald. One question, though. What, exactly, is a ‘Funso’s’?”

Donald chuckled. “I think I’ll leave that for Louie to fill you in on. Come on, let’s go catch up with—”

Donald cut himself off and leapt to his feet as they watched something silver fly into the cave, landing on the floor in front of them, hissing and letting out a thick fog that smelled sickly sweet.

“Smoke bomb?” Della exclaimed, coughing slightly on the smoke. “Where did—?”

She didn’t finish her sentence as she crumpled to the ground.

Donald, also choking on the smoke, reached his hand out to catch his sister.

Her name was on the tip of his tongue as he fell to the ground.

As his eyes grew heavy and the siren call of sleep beckoned, he caught a glimpse of webbed feet walking past, a black cape swishing behind as a cruel laugh, echoed off the tunnel walls.

He could fight no more, and sleep overtook him.

*****

“There it is, kids,” Scrooge said reverently as they walked into the final chamber. Up ahead, on a dais, on a pedestal, glinting off the light of Scrooge’s torch, was a small blood red gemstone the size of a walnut.

“It’s really small for something so powerful,” Huey observed as they ascended the steps.

“Remind you of anyone?” Dewey asked with a grin, using his thumbs to point to himself.

“Nope, not whatsoever,” Huey said, ignoring his brother.

Dewey pouted and followed the other three up to the pedestal.

“We’re in luck,” Scrooge said, reaching out for the Ruby. “We’ve got the Blood Ruby, and not a hint of Magica DeSpell in—”

Suddenly, a large gust of wind blew in, blowing out Scrooge’s torch, plunging them into darkness.

“We’re underground, where did the wind come from?” Huey called out in the dark.

“Webby, do you have your night-vision gear?” Scrooge asked.

“Of course!” Webby said, the lens of her goggles glowing green. Then she gasped. “The Ruby! Someone’s stealing the Ruby! Stop, thief!”

There was the sound of a laugh, cold and cruel and much more of a cackle, echoing through the room with retreating footsteps.

“Come back here!” Webby yelled as she started to run after him. “You’re not getting away!”

“Webbigail, wait!” Scrooge called as he got the torch re-lit. Webby was already leaving the chamber, and he and the boys ran to catch up to her.

They chased until they got back towards the beginning of the cave, where Webby had ripped off her night vision goggles and was hovering over an unconscious Donald and Della.

“Mom!” Dewey called out.

“Uncle Donald!” Huey cried as he ran forward.

“Kids!” Scrooge exclaimed, rushing forward. He knelt down between his niece and nephew.

“They’re alive, they’re pulses and breathing are steady, they just got knocked out,” Webby said.

“Did you catch the guy?” Dewey asked.

Webby shook her head, looking shaken. “No. It’s like he just disappeared.”

Della groaned and her eyes opened slowly. “What happened? Uncle Scrooge?”

“Shh, take it easy, lass,” Scrooge said, gently stroking her hair. “Are you in any pain?”

“I kind of hurt from falling…” Della mumbled. “There was… it was a smoke bomb of some sort. Knocked us out.”

Donald groaned, almost as if he was agreeing with her, his eyes still closed.

“Uncle Donald!” Dewey said. “Uncle Donald, come on, wake up!”

Donald’s eyes squeezed shut momentarily before he opened them. He gave the concerned kids a small smile. “I’m fine, kids…”

“The Blood Ruby,” Della said as Scrooge and Huey helped her sit up. “Did you get it?”

“Almost. Whoever knocked you two out stole it,” Dewey explained as Donald pushed himself up onto his elbows.

Della’s eyes widened. “So Magica has the Ruby?”

“Not Magica,” Webby said. “Unless she’s using some sort of disguise.”

“She wouldn’t be capable of that without her magic,” Scrooge told Webby. “So we’re going to have to go off what we heard and what Webby saw with her goggles.”

“Based off the laugh we heard, whoever it was, they were most likely male, so definitely not Magica,” Huey said. “But it wasn’t Glomgold’s laugh, either.”

“Plus, Glomgold’s plans are less smoke bombs and more actual bombs. And sharks.” Dewey added.

“Did you get a look at his face, Webby?” Della asked.

“No,” Webby said. “But he was wearing this cape, and a big hat, and a mask. I couldn’t make out the colors of his clothes or anything else since I mostly only saw his back, and the night vision goggles aren’t meant to detect color.”

Scrooge frowned. “This is somehow a worse outcome than Magica getting her filthy hands on the Blood Ruby.”

“How do you figure?” Donald asked.

“Because if it was Magica, we would know what to expect,” Scrooge said grimly, getting to his feet. “But we have no idea who did steal it. Which means we don’t know who or what we are up against.

“We need to return to Duckburg. Now.”


	5. Chapter 5

Drake took a deep breath before he continued down the path, where Campbell was waiting, sitting on the edge of the fountain in the park next to the St. Canard Museum. After finishing up with the fake-curator, getting the information he needed, and seeing Borris Humblebottom into the hands of the police, he had changed out of his costume and kissed Launchpad good-bye.

“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” Launchpad asked. “The kids can entertain themselves a little while longer and we can all go to the fun park.”

“I’ll be fine,” Drake insisted as he packed up his costume. “Besides, Gosalyn and Louie deserve a reward for helping bring down Humblebottom. Go, have fun, takes lots of photos, and I’ll meet up with you guys for lunch.”

Now he just had to hope for the best.

“Hey, Campbell,” He said, approaching.

Campbell leapt to his feet, grinning. “Hey, Drake. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me. I know, after our talk yesterday, that you were really against it. So, thanks. For giving me another chance to talk. Because I don’t think we really said everything we needed to say.”

“I thought so, too,” Drake said, taking a seat on the edge of the fountain, Campbell following suit.

“Can I just… start talking?” Campbell asked. “Because I haven’t had anyone to talk to about that night you left, or really any part of our childhood that didn’t include the, well, the bad parts.”

“There were bad parts of it for you?” Drake asked, again a bit surprised. “Because everything seemed so perfect for you.”

“What? No. Definitely no,” Campbell said, shaking his head.

Drake started ticking things off on his fingers. “You were the popular student who always had a girlfriend, and always had a date for any and every function. You were captain of the football team and class president, and Dad was always boasting about you and your accomplishments in all of those regards. He and Mom would both always put priority on you and your functions. It just… you were always the golden child.”

“Yeah, well, that all came with price tags,” Campbell said with a sigh. “Kind of literally. Yeah, I was always class president, but it was the other members of the student body who got things done. They never listened to me and my ideas. Senior year, I literally got told I was just the pretty face of their work. And I only ever ran because Dad told me to, because that’s what Mallards do. My football captaincy was just as fake. I found out a couple of years ago that the principal told the coaches to make me captain senior year because they wanted to be in Dad’s good graces. And Mom and Dad always used me to impress people, and my functions—especially the football games—to make connections. Whatever I did, it was always about them and how they raised me so well or whatever. It was never pride about what I had done, it was never really my accomplishments. You know Dad left a very generous donation to St. Canard College so I could get in? So it wasn’t my grades, my test scores, my anything that got me in. Just Dad and his money. Like he didn’t think I was good enough to get in on my own. And it’s still that way, even now that I’m an adult. Dad sends me with prepared speeches as his representative, and always mocks my ideas. Mom used my wedding with Duclair to basically have a big party that neither of us wanted, and she and Dad are always pressuring us about grandkids... Because they just want to complete this perfect picture of a family.”

“If it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t worthy in the eyes of Mom and Dad,” Drake said, nodding softly. “I’m sorry, Campbell. I’m really sorry that I didn’t know they put you under the same pressure, same microscope, that they did with me. I guess since they were always just so… vocal and open about how much they hated that I wasn’t this perfect person in their eyes, I thought that they didn’t do the same with you and Binkie.”

“I’m sorry that we never talked about it. I’m sorry that I never told you. But I’m even sorrier that I thought it was just normal,” Campbell said. Campbell’s shoulders slumped and he looked at Drake sadly. “And… I’m sorry. Because what I said that night, asking you to just do what Dad said… I was just as bad as Mom and Dad. Because I wanted that perfect family, too. Not in the same way they did, but the way other people’s families were: Happy and loving. And I guess I thought that just doing whatever Dad said was what would make that happen, that we’d all be happy. It was stupid. Because, then, I didn’t realize that you would have never been happy, and never have felt loved if you had stayed. I’m really, really sorry, Drake. I’m sorry that I wasn’t a good enough brother to protect you, and that I made you feel unsafe in what should have been your own home.”

Campbell was quiet again, then he said, “I don’t think I can make that up to you. But I’d like to start over. I know you said yesterday that you would forgive, but never forget, and I respect that. But I’d like to have a real relationship with you, free of Mom and Dad’s influence. I missed you a lot. We used to be really close when we were really small.”

“We were?” Drake asked, confused.

“Yeah,” Campbell said, nodding. “I guess you don’t remember, but we used to watch _Darkwing Duck_ together. You were little enough that you didn’t know how to tell time yet, so it was my job to make sure that we got to the TV before it came on. You loved it, probably more than I did. You definitely watched it more religiously than I did, long after I lost interest and had other things going on in the afternoons. Practices and friends and all that. But we would recreate Darkwing’s battles over the city together. And create some of our own. Mom used to get so mad at us for messing up her good towels and stealing her hats…”

“I’m really sorry that I don’t remember,” Drake said.

“Like I said, you were really little. It doesn’t surprise me,” Campbell said with a shrug. “I’m just… well, I guess I’m just sad that I didn’t do a good job of keeping that closeness as we grew up. And I’m sorry that it took ten years and being an adult to realize what a bad brother I was to you. And I’m especially sorry that I never told you that I was proud of you, that I admired you, for never backing down or changing who you were even when faced with Dad’s wrath or Mom’s expectations. Because you always were the real you, no matter what. And you left, which was also incredibly brave. I don’t think I could have ever done that. You were always the brave one of the family. That, at least, is something to be proud of. Really, really proud of.”

Drake was quiet and he thought for a moment on how to respond. But, oddly enough, he kept coming back to his conversation with Louie the night before.

“It’s been ten years, Campbell,” Drake said. “Ten years of each of us figuring out who we are as people and where we fit into the world. Even as adults, we still have a lot of room left to grow. I’ve got Gos now, and Launchpad. They’re my family. But, the great thing about family is that there’s always room to grow.”

“So…?” Campbell said hesitantly. “What do you say?”

Drake smiled at him. “I’m saying, I’m willing to start our relationship over. But you have to understand, I’ve got boundaries that I’ll ask you to respect.”

“I’m okay with that,” Campbell said, nodding and grinning. “Thank you, Drake.”

After exchanging more contact information and promising to keep in touch, Drake left to join his family at the fun park.

Soon, he was joining Launchpad on the pavilion that overlooked the bumper cars, where parents milled about while their kids enjoyed the attraction.

“How’d it go?” Launchpad asked as Drake leaned his arms on the railing.

“It went… It went well,” Drake said. “We both said things that needed to be said. We kind of cleared the air. We’re going to try this brotherly relationship thing, see how it goes.”

Launchpad laid his hand over Drake’s. “I know that was hard. So I’m glad it went well. You feel good about it?”

“Yeah,” Drake said. “I do. I think this is the best I’ve ever felt after a conversation with someone I’m related to. Blood wise, at least. Hopefully the first of many. I’m still keeping my guard up, for myself and for Gos and for you. Maybe I’ll be able to take down those mental and emotional shields someday. But for now, they’ll stay up.” He looked up at Launchpad. “But its progress, and its progress I was never expecting to make.” Drake looked back at the bumper-car arena, smiling as he watched Gosalyn and Louie play with the other kids. “It’s weird, you know? I didn’t want to come back to St. Canard. But I got something I didn’t know I needed out of this trip. Just like how a few months ago, I came to St. Canard and met Gos, who I definitely didn’t know I needed. The city I’ve spent the entirety of my adult life avoiding has given me two big gifts.”

“Three,” Launchpad said. “Those FBI officers sure were happy to thank you for catching that Humblebottom guy. That’s definitely going to be a boost for your superhero cred.”

“Oh, yes,” Drake said, smirking. “Who caught a thief and con artist wanted in six countries? That’s right, Darkwing Duck! Not Gizmoduck! The daring duck of mystery, the champion of right! The terror that flaps in the night! Dark! Wing! Duck!”

“Oh no,” Gosalyn groaned as she and Louie approached. “We’re going to be hearing about this for the rest of eternity, aren’t we?”

“More importantly, was there any sort of reward for catching this guy?” Louie asked.

Before Drake could answer, his phone rang. He glanced up at the other three before answering, saying, “It’s Scrooge.”

He accepted the call.

After a few minutes of listening, he grimaced and said, “We’re on our way.”

He hung up and said, “They’re headed back to Duckburg.”

“What’s wrong?” Louie asked, his eyes going wide. “Is someone hurt?”

“It’s the Blood Ruby,” Drake said. “Someone stole it right out from under them. Someone who was most definitely not Magica DeSpell.”

*****

“So… I should be safe?” Lena asked in the quiet after Scrooge and the Duck family finished telling their story. “Since Magica didn’t take it?”

“We’ll continue to monitor the situation,” Scrooge told her. “You should be safe, yes. Provided, however, this was not someone who was working for Magica to steal the Blood Ruby. Until we know for sure, however, you’ll be safer here at the mansion, at home with your fathers, at school, or generally with another adult or two outside of those three places. I know that can feel like a restriction of freedom…”

“I’ll take it,” Lena said quickly. “I’m not going to be trapped in the Shadow Realm again, and I’m not going to be Magica’s slave.”

Raymond and Kevin, who each had a hand on one of Lena’s shoulders, also looked somewhat relieved.

“I’ll request additional patrols around our house,” Raymond said.

“And we’ll find traps to set up on your property permanently,” Mrs. Beakley added. “Though we will need to do a few tests to ensure that Lena’s magic will not trigger them.”

“I’ll add in some of my own security features,” Gyro added.

Scrooge nodded and turned to Darkwing. “I assume no one attempted to steal the Tyrant’s Lost Crown in St. Canard?”

“If they did, they would have been highly disappointed, given that it was a fake,” Darkwing explained.

He went into the story, with interjections from Launchpad, Gosalyn and Louie.

“Borris Humblebottom orchestrated all this, just to steal one thing from the St. Canard Museum’s collection,” Darkwing explained. He pulled out a photograph from his pocket. “This is the photographs that the Museum had of what he stole.”

Scrooge accepted the photograph, frowning. “A book?”

“It’s a diary, of a woman by the name of Cornelia Gadwell. She lived in the area known as Calisota before Calisota was ever a state,” Darkwing explained. “It has very little value outside of the state, really.”

“Wait, I know that name,” Della said. “Cornelia Gadwell…” Suddenly, her eyes widened and she looked at Donald. “Remember? We tried to find her ghost!”

“I remember,” Donald said, looking none too pleased about this memory. “Worst Halloween ever.”

“We were too old for trick-or-treating by then, stop complaining,” Della told him. “Anyways, people thought she was a witch, didn’t they?”

“It was just an urban legend,” Kevin said. “The stories vary based off of oral tradition over what things she supposedly was and was not capable of. One of my colleagues is an expert in Calisota history; she has read from that very diary. She said there was nothing that could prove that she was a witch. Though what is truly odd about this theft is that the diary has been completely scanned and digitized, and there have been several editions published of the diary by modern presses. Really, you could get a copy of this book at any library in the state, as well as online.”

“So why would a thief, who was wanted in six countries for big heists and con jobs, steal something with hardly any value outside of our state and could be read for free?” Dewey asked.

“Thing is, Humblebottom didn’t steal it for himself,” Darkwing explained. “Someone hired him to steal it.”

“Did he say who hired him?” Gizmoduck asked.

“Yes and no,” Darkwing said. “Said it was all anonymous, and he never met the guy in person or spoke to him directly. Unfortunately, while we were investigating at the Museum and found Mx. Corgison, he was already dropping the book off in a prearranged location. It’s long gone by now. Regardless, I think whoever hired Humblebottom is connected to whoever stole the Blood Ruby—possibly even the same person.”

“That seems to be a logical assumption,” Raymond said.

“It is too much of a coincidence that at the same time McDuck was hearing about the Blood Ruby, that the Crown that went with it made a sudden appearance,” Officer Cabrera added, nodding.

“So we’re facing someone who doesn’t have magic, but is trying to get some,” Scrooge said. “And someone who is willing to play a long game with us.”

“And that doesn’t sound like anyone familiar on your enemies list, Uncle Scrooge?” Huey asked.

“It’s a long list, lad,” Scrooge told him. “But no one comes to mind right away. But one thing is certain: this isn’t over. And this person could be anywhere, but most likely here in Duckburg or in St. Canard.”

“Now that I’ve got connections with the St. Canard police, it should be easier to keep an ear open,” Darkwing said.

“Good,” Scrooge said with a nod. He stood up and put his arms behind his back. “This person thinks that they can outsmart us. That they can be a step ahead of us, know us and our plans. The last person who thought the same, Lunaris, all but defeated us. And I think we are all in agreement that having two moons is more than enough for our planet.

“Whoever this is fails to realize that we are smarter, we are tougher, and we are sharper as a team. They will regret challenging us. Mark my words.”

With that, they were all dismissed.

As everyone milled about the room, Della glanced across the room at Louie, at the same moment that he looked across at her. They both just as quickly averted their gazes.

Donald nudged Della’s side with his elbow. “Go see your son.”

Darkwing put his hand on Louie’s shoulder and whispered, “Go see your mom.”

They met halfway, standing in the center of the rug in front of Scrooge’s desk.

They both stood there for a moment, neither knowing what to say or do.

“Are you and Uncle Donald okay?” Louie asked, speaking up first. “From being knocked out?”

Della smiled and nodded, “Yes, sweetie. We’re fine.” She took a deep breath, then said, “We missed you, though.”

Louie nodded vaguely. “I missed you, too.”

“But,” Della continued. “It sounds like you were exactly where you needed to be. Which can be different from where I needed to be. And that’s okay, because we’re two different people, and I’ve been doing a sucky job trying to understand those differences.”

“I haven’t exactly given you many chances,” Louie admitted. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, I’m sorry. I just… I thought that when I came back from the moon, everything would be exactly as I left it, and everything would go according to the way I had planned things. I wasn’t… I spent so much time trying to get home, and thinking that everything was going to be perfect, and it would be like I was never gone. But that was too much wishful thinking.”

“I think they call that a survival mechanism,” Louie countered. “I think there’s a section on that in Huey’s Junior Woodchuck book.”

“Well, whatever it’s called, it didn’t leave me much mental or emotional preparedness for coming back and realizing that nothing was the same, and that I couldn’t just start a relationship with you and your brothers based off what I wanted, what I had planned, and what I thought I knew about you.” Della said. “I needed to actually get to know you. I couldn’t just jump right in to the dynamic. And I need to let you take the lead.”

“It’d be slow if you follow my lead,” Louie warned her. “And involve a lot less adventuring.”

“That’s fine,” Della told him. “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, no matter how fast or how slow. Because you are my son, and I love you.”

Louie closed the gap between them, throwing his arms around her waist. Della felt her eyes water as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight, running fingers through his hair.

When they broke apart, they just smiled at each other with watery eyes.

“So,” Della said, reaching up to wipe at her eyes. “Donald told me to ask you what, exactly, is a Funso’s?”

Louie’s smile turned into a grin. “Funso’s is a thing that is to be experienced, not merely described.”

“How exactly does one get to experience a Funso’s then?”

“Wanna go now and find out, Mom?”

“I’d love nothing more, Louie.”

“Then grab your quarters and prepare for your mind to be blown!”

“I was born ready!”

As Louie grabbed Della’s hand and pulled her from the room, Darkwing and Donald both smiled proudly and bumped fists.

“We did good,” Darkwing said proudly.

“So very good,” Donald agreed.

At least they could resolve one crisis.

*****

Duclair was rubbing her wet hair with a towel as she exited the bathroom, and she frowned at seeing Campbell, dressed in his pajamas and seated on the edge of the bed, a pillow to his chest, his knees curled up to his chest as he stared straight ahead at nothing.

“Camp?” She said cautiously. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Campbell answered. “Well, yes and no.”

Duclair sat down beside him. “Want to talk about it?”

Campbell sighed and uncurled slightly as he said, “You know I met up with Drake this morning.”

“Right,” Duclair said. “I thought you said it went well.”

“It did. That’s the problem,” Campbell said. “I shouldn’t have told Dad what I was doing. I’ve made a huge mistake.”

“You needed to tell him why you were leaving in the middle of the morning,” Duclair countered.

“Yes, but I should have lied about what I was doing,” Campbell said. He tossed the pillow behind him and planted his feet on the floor, his elbows on his knees. “Duclair… I can’t do this. I can’t go through with Dad’s plan to steal Gosalyn from Drake—and don’t tell me that’s not what his plan is. Because it most definitely is. She’s so happy with Drake, and Gosalyn is everything to him. And I want a relationship with my brother. I want a relationship with my niece. Mom and Dad, they don’t want a relationship with Drake, or really one with Gosalyn. Dad wants what he wants, and what he wants is this so-called perfect family. And I… I can’t support that. I can’t just sit there and let it happen. I _won’t_ just sit there and let it happen. You saw Dad take my phone, get Drake’s number and address from it. I’m can’t be passive anymore, and I can’t let my Dad control me anymore.”

Duclair was silent and for the entire time Campbell thought he had messed up. Duclair was loyal to his father, she’d divorce him, she’d tell him to stop being stupid, she’d—

“Campbell, you know I loved you long before I knew who your father was, right?” Duclair said softly.

“I… I think so?” Campbell said.

Duclair sighed. “Yeah. You _think_ so. You don’t _know_ so. But I want you to know this: I love you, and I support you. And I never, ever, thought I would ever hear you say that you want to disobey Saxony. I’ve watched you bite your tongue for years, because the few times you do speak up, he tears you down. Even when your ideas are good, and your contributions are important. Even if they’re the exact same thing I’d say, or anyone else on the advisory staff.”

She met his gaze and took his hand. “I know I come across as… well, cold-hearted and driven and like a loyal lackey to your father. But, I think you’re right. We can’t let him tear apart your brother and Gosalyn. I saw them the same way you did. Drake’s a good dad for Gosalyn, and she loves him. She wouldn’t… well, under your parents, I don’t think she’d thrive. She’s too spirited.”

“She’s too much like Drake,” Campbell said, nodding. “And we see how my parents treated him.”

“Not just Drake, but your nephews, Binkie’s kids,” Duclair said. “She’s too much like your parents, though. She buys their agenda whole-heartedly. She lets them hold the same expectations to her kids, their grandkids, that they did you and your siblings. I… If we ever have kids, I don’t think I could do the same.”

Campbell squeezed her hand. “_When_, Clair. _When_ we have kids.”

Part of what had made it so painful for Saxony and Maggie nagging them about grandkids ever since their honeymoon was that they had tried, so many times, over the years for a child of their own. They had lost several eggs, and after the first two losses—and the pain that came from those losses increased by the disappointment, not sadness, _disappointment_ from the Mallard matriarch and patriarch—they had stopped telling people that they were expecting, leaving Campbell and Duclair to be excited, nervous, hopeful, and mourn entirely in private.

In private, but alone.

“I think we both need to take a step away from my parents. We need to be our own people for a while,” Campbell said. “That’s something I’ve never had, and something you haven’t had since you met me.”

Duclair stared at their joined hands for a moment, then said slowly, “This is… This is going to sound crazy. But I’ve been receiving emails from the governor’s office. There’s a position open in her office. It’s basically what I do here at the St. Canard mayor’s office, but on a larger scale. She wants me to apply for it.”

“Do you want to apply for it?” Campbell asked.

“I’ve thought about it. I told myself I was being stupid. Telling myself that I’m happy here—and I am. I love my job, I love my city, pretty much all my friends are here, and I’d never dream of asking you to move to New Quackmore.”

“But you want to apply for it.”

“But I want to apply for it,” Duclair said, nodding. “It’d be a major step in my career for one thing. And for another… Well, I was feeling off about your dad’s crazy plan to adopt Gosalyn in the first place, even before Drake was in the picture, and then these emails started showing up and… It feels like a sign.”

Campbell kissed Duclair’s cheek. “I say follow that sign. And I’ll follow you anywhere.”

Duclair smiled. “How about I go bring up that application now, then?”

Campbell smiled in return. “And I’m going to call my brother. Give him a heads up.”

*****

“Thanks for calling me, Campbell,” Drake said into the phone, his voice even and pleasant though his face was full of rage. Launchpad sometimes forgot that his boyfriend was, in fact, a trained actor until moments like this, which really impressed him. “I really appreciate it. I’ll talk to you later.”

However, Drake hung up the phone and Launchpad was a bit surprised that he didn’t hurl the phone into the bay where they sat on the roof of the Money Bin.

“I can’t believe him,” Drake snarled as he started pacing back and forth, his cape whipping slightly from both the wind and the speed of his pacing. “I cannot believe him…”

“What did Campbell do?” Launchpad asked as he unscrewed the lid of his thermos and took a sip of the hot chocolate within.

“It’s not Campbell,” Drake said. “He’s just the messenger. No, not the messenger. He wasn’t told to tell me. He chose to tell me.”

Launchpad quickly put the lid back on the thermos, setting it aside, his beak twisting into a grimace.

There was only one other ‘him’ that would cause Drake to be this upset.

“Your dad?” He asked.

“Yes!” Drake snapped. “You know how apparently my parents tried to adopt Gos before I did?”

“Yeah, like, a day or two before we arrived at the orphanage for her,” Launchpad said, nodding, remembering what Gosalyn had told them. “She told us when they showed up at the hearing.”

“Right. So. Apparently, my parents want to try and prove that I’m unfit to be a parent and get Gosalyn taken from me. That way, they can—as my parents and therefore next of kin—swoop in and take care of her.” Drake said. He sighed and stopped pacing, pressing his hand to his side, just along his ribcage.

Launchpad watched him with concern. “Your scar bothering you?” He asked.

Three weeks ago, Darkwing had gotten a nasty knife wound while battling two gas station robbers. Their friend—emergency room doctor and newly instated official physician for Duckburg’s superheroes, Elise Schwanz—managed to save his life when Darkwing went into shock. He had been cleared for active duty again only a few days before they left for St. Canard. The scar tissue was still healing, so it occasionally twinged, though Drake insisted that it was getting less intense and less frequent. Launchpad hadn’t said it out-loud yet, but he was glad that their mission in St. Canard had been a relatively low-key and non-violent one, to give Drake a bit more time to recover.

“No, it’s not bothering me. Physically, at least.” Drake said. His shoulders slumped. “What would have happened that day if Elise hadn’t been there?”

“I would have taken you to the hospital anyway,” Launchpad answered.

“And if I didn’t make it to the hospital?” Drake asked. “What if I had died, Launchpad? I could have died, even with Elise there. My life motto is ‘Let’s get dangerous’, and I somehow manage to make a living off of that. My life is dangerous. I mean, I wouldn’t have it any other way. But it’s dangerous. What if someday it becomes too dangerous, and…” He took a deep breath. “If Gosalyn needs to be taken care of. By someone other than me. I can’t let my parents get her. I won’t let that happen.”

“So what are you going to do?” Launchpad asked.

Drake’s eyes were somehow both intense and soft at the same time as he approached Launchpad, getting down on one knee to look him in the eye.

“I’m going to ask you something, something I should have asked a long time ago,” Drake said. “Launchpad, will you—”

“Wait, now, hold up,” Launchpad said, holding up his hands. “We said we wanted to take this relationship thing slow. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love you, Drake. I love you so much, but I don’t think getting married—”

“Wait, what?” Drake said. Then he shook his head and jumped to his feet, the parts of his face not obscured by his mask turning red as he realized that he was in a prime proposal position. “Oh, oh no. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do love you and I’m not against marriage someday, but that’s not… I mean, I have another question. I guess it’s kind of similar, but…” He sighed and ran his hand down his face. “Okay. Let me start over.” He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

“Launchpad, I’d like to fill out paperwork that says you’d be Gosalyn’s legal guardian if something were to happen to me. Official and everything, and worded so well it can’t be overturned in court no matter what sleazy lawyer my parents hire. I mean, you’re already listed as an emergency contact on all her school paperwork, and she loves you, and I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have taking care of her. Even if we were to—God forbid—break up, that would always be true. Gos already basically sees you as a second father. It just makes sense. But only if you’re willing to take on that responsibility. I won’t force you to, and I definitely don’t want to try to emotionally manipulate you or—”

Launchpad stood up and placed his hands on Drake’s shoulders, cutting him off. “Of course I’d be willing to take care of Gos. I love her, as much as I love you. I’m honored that you think I’m good enough to take care of her. Not that I think I’m going to have to. I don’t want to. I mean, I do want to be her legal guardian, but I don’t want the reason for me to become her legal guardian to happen.”

“I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen,” Drake said, with a small smile. “I’ll call the adoption attorney in the morning. See how to get that going.”

A siren wailed in the distance, one distinctly belonging to a police car.

Darkwing and Pilot stood at the edge of the Money Bin roof for a moment, watching Duckburg and the faint glow of the blue and red flashing lights.

Then they looked at each other.

“Let’s get dangerous,” Darkwing said, smirking slightly.

“Let’s,” Pilot said.

They hopped in the Thunderquack, and took off into the night.

*****

Meanwhile, below the city, a figure clad in yellow, red and black easily navigated the sewers. He had become very familiar with them. He knew them like the back of his hand.

He got into his lair, occupied by pillaged gear from camping stores and the local McDuck-Mart. The flame from the oil lamp flickered in the low light. A battery-operated radio in the corner was on, an announcer’s voice echoing through the cavern.

“—_caught and arrested by caped Duckburg vigilante, Darkwing_—”

His beak curled into a snarl and he picked up the radio, throwing it against the wall, not wanting to hear any more about that pretender.

“Boys,” The figure called out in a low, rough voice in the silence that echoed, somehow even louder, more powerful than that of the radio. “Daddy’s home!”

He heard the scurrying, and four large brown rats appeared on the table.

“John. Paul. George. Ringo,” He greeted. “Did you miss your Daddy?”

The rats squeaked and chirped and hissed in greeting.

He thunked the bag on the table, staring to unearth his treasures.

“All too easy,” He told the rats, pulling out the stale bagels he had swiped from a bakery’s garbage and tossing them to the boys, who began to chow down. “I told you. All I had to do was plant some little whispers in a few ears, and next thing I know, McDuck is off to find the one thing I need the most.”

He pulled the Blood Ruby out of the bag, the stone glinting in the lamplight. He let out a scoff of a laugh as he twisted it in the light. “Old McMoneybags led me right to it. Wasn’t that hard to follow him, and even easier to swipe it right out from under his beak. He’s losing his touch. Even managed to lose the little kiddie with the night vision goggles.”

He set the Blood Ruby on the table and then pulled out the other object that he had just picked up from his middle-men, some of Ma Beagle's boys who were trying to make a name for themselves in the crime world there—who wasn’t? Now that Taurus Bulba was dead and gone, there was a whole city prime for the taking.

Even he had thought about St. Canard.

Except that little movie star wannabe continued to stick around Duckburg.

Growing up, he loved the old western movies; they had inspired his career as an actor, especially in his stunt work. There was almost always that one quote: “This town ain’t big enough for the two of us.”

Well, Duckburg wasn’t big enough for the two of them.

The whole world that wasn’t big enough for the two of them.

There could be only one. And _he_ was the one. He was always the one and only terror that flaps in the night.

He was the one and only Darkwing Duck.

Jim Starling thumbed through the pages of the diary, stopping when he felt exactly what he was looking for at the very back: two pages that were stuck together.

He smiled to himself as he whipped out a knife and pried the pages apart, carefully, willing them not to tear. They eventually came apart, the glue already structurally weak, yet this had never been found by numerous historians and bookbinders.

And there it was.

Cornelia Gadwell’s list of her codes for her diary.

Now he had a powerful magical artifact, and a diary full of spells, potions, hexes and curses, all cleverly masked over daily anecdotes and harmless recipes.

Jim Starling set the diary back into the bag, and picked up the Blood Ruby again.

“Well, boys, let your old man tell you a secret: if you want to win over a woman, especially a woman who is your ex-girlfriend, you’re going to need some very pretty jewelry. Which means Daddy’s got some shopping to do to turn this old thing into something new and shiny.

“And, hopefully, Morgana will just adore it.”


End file.
